Unknown Existance
by Racing the Sunrise
Summary: How can one tell if they are alive? If no one sees me, does that make me a ghost? Can you call what ghosts do an existance? I didn't know until a hand reached out and gave me a reason to live. Should I care if it is scaled?
1. Empty Existance

_This is way different from what I usually do (Harry Potter instead of Naruto), so I need some opinions on it. I haven't seen this idea before. In most, Harry is beaten, raped, starved, etc.; but this one shows something I think is way worse. This is just my opinion though, please tell me what you think!_

All he wanted was for people, no…someone, anyone, to see him. All he _needed_ was someone to see him. When he walked through the house, while at school, or walking along the park road, nobody saw him. Their eyes simply slid away to the side. At school, the teachers never called his name for roll, he didn't even think he was enrolled there, and didn't take up any of his work. He was forced to teach himself all of the lessons they were learning because the teacher wouldn't answer any of his questions. At the house it was the same, eyes slid away from him whenever he was near. It hurt him deeply. He could take being yelled at, hit or spit on; because it meant that they could see him. For them to do those things, they would have to acknowledge his existence. But no, they all merely ignored him. This was his life for as long as he could remember, and he didn't ever expect it to change. And it hurt him, deep in side.

--

He awoke with the sun like any other day. The warm light caressed his face and arms where it filtered through the slits of his cupboard. 'Not mine, nothing is mine,' he quietly chastised himself. He laid there, savoring the feeling of the daylight on his skin, for so long that he could see the light move off of him as the sun moved away from the front windows. He loved to watch time pass by, to watch things grow and die, be born and shrivel with age. He could only practice this love in the garden; carefully tending to the shoots, watching them grow, and seeing then fall into winter's cold embrace.

Time never seemed to effect him. Oh, he could tell he was growing; his hair was long, his stolen clothes were no longer long enough for him, and he had become stronger by a miniscule amount, but his mind never changed. Whenever he thought he was learning some new thing, something deep in his mind would click and he knew the material. It wasn't like he didn't know it and then he suddenly did, no it was as if he had already learned the material and he only needed to review it. Even more, every sight and sound from his earliest memories were carefully documented into his mind. The books he had read called it a "photographic memory", he just called it annoying. Even with his perfect memory, he couldn't remember a single time that his "family" even saw him, ever cared.

Sighing, he got up from the bed squished into the space under the stairs. He shook any collected dust from his hair and brushed it behind his ears before opening the cupboard door. It swung open silently, alerting none to his presence; not that anyone would notice anyway. Without a sound, he made his way out of the hallway and up the stairs. His destination was the only upstairs room he regularly visited; the bathroom. The other rooms, the visible people's personal rooms, he almost never entered. The last time he had was when he was six. He had gotten so tired of their silent refusal to acknowledge him that he trashed the entire house while they were out. He did it just to see their reactions, their anger, but it hadn't worked. When they returned, they reported the incident with the police and cleaned up, going on with their lives. He had never tried anything remotely like that again. It hurt way too much.

He felt his heart tighten so much that it became painful. With a jerk, he let go of the bathroom door handle and clutched at his chest. The muscle skipped a beat before returning to its normal rhythm. Taking deep breaths, he willed the pain away; shoving it deep down into his soul. It wasn't often that he felt physical pain, emotional was far more common, but whatever form it took, he could push pain far down where it could be ignored.

Once he finished in the bathroom, he walked down to the kitchen. He was surprised to see that the room was filled with half open presents, but nobody was in the room. Then he remembered the date; Dudley's birthday was today. He knew he should be happy, no one was around to ignore him, but without anyone else there, the house felt as empty as his soul. After making himself something to eat, he settled with a book of Petunia's on the couch and recorded the book in his memory. It would be a while before something came along and filled the empty space. He didn't even know if he meant the house or his soul.


	2. Curious Existance

He was dreaming and he knew it. Dreams weren't new to him, but this particular one was. The beginning of his dream was very boring; he was falling, enclosed by darkness. After a few minutes of this, he felt a change. It was a feeling almost impossible to describe, even with his overly large and precise vocabulary, but the closest word he came up with was pressure. He felt pressure all over his body, surrounding him, suffocating him. His breath caught in his throat and his lungs screamed in protest when they received no life giving air for several minutes. His heart slowed and sputtered, bringing pain he locked away for so long back to the surface of his consciousness. A ragged cough brought blood to his lips but allowed his body to receive its much needed air, a fair exchange in his eyes. Despite the incoming oxygen, his heart refused to be set back on its regular rhythm. He felt a need, a thought pounding away at his focus of his heart. A need, that if it were given words would read, _"move, move, I must go on. I cannot stop, I'm needed."_ This was a particular feeling for him, for he had no clue on who needed him and why he needed to move. The pressure suddenly ceased, and he felt satisfaction enter his consciousness. The pain that previously racked his body ended as well and his lungs cried rivers of gold as a blissful mist soothed his sore organs. An invisible hand cupped his cheek and a smooth voice spoke from nearby. "You did very well, Harry. You serve so me well." The voice echoed in his mind until he fell even deeper into sleep, this time without dreams.

* * *

He woke on this day, expecting the same monotonous things to happen like every other day. He contemplated the meaning of his existence before finally rising to find something to eat. When he got up and went to the kitchen, he saw that Vernon and Petunia were in the middle of a heated argument.

"That boy has never set foot in this house. Are they mad?" Vernon's face was an odd violet color while Petunia's was a white chalky color. With a chuckle, he wondered if Dudley's face turned into a lavender color when he was mad. Seeing that something interesting was, finally, happening, he settled himself on the floor and watched the proceedings. Vernon and his wife sat in the immaculate kitchen, across from each other, at the family table in the center. Their faces were worried and stressed; an odd change from their normal façades. He found it hilarious. "You've met these…people before; can't you tell them that he has never been here?" His voice was small in comparison to the usual guttural sound that he passed as a voice, piquing the seated boy's interest. It took a lot to get Vernon to use that voice and it only happened when he was discussing a bad business deal he had made.

Petunia sniffed with disdain. "I can try, but I doubt it will do any good. These people can be quite annoyingly persistent." She plucked something out of Vernon's hand and smoothed a letter that was almost crushed beyond recognition on the tabletop. With jerky movements, Petunia scribbled something on the crinkled paper and got up from the table. She almost ran to the window and handed the letter to something outside.

"And that is that," Vernon commented form behind her.

--

The next day, more letters found their way into the house. A bundle of them slammed onto the carpet under the mail slot and scattered upon impact with the floor. Before he could satisfy his curiosity, Vernon ran out of the kitchen with food still in his mouth. He scooped up all of the letters and took them back into the kitchen with him.

He lay back on the bed and contemplated the mystery of the letters. He had to admit that he didn't have much to go on. Someone was sending the Dursleys, who claim that this person had never lived there. Petunia even told them that the person wasn't there, and yet, the letters kept coming. He ran over everything he knew from deep in his memories, but still couldn't figure it out.

* * *

"Ah, Severus my dear boy, there you are." Dumbledore joyfully called out as he swept into Snape's personal lab. The Professor was currently working on a new experimental combination of a Dreamless Sleep potion and a fever reducing potion. It was risky to administer two to a patient because they may never wake again. Healers couldn't tell the difference between the deep sleep of the potion and a fever-induced coma. It was all very frustrating. Jerking up from his cauldron, Severus settled as glare on the Headmaster.

"Where else would I be? Oh, and thank you for not knocking, I was looking for a way to blow myself up, but couldn't think of a grand enough way to go." His sneer was set firmly on his face, but inside he was curious. The Headmaster rarely bothered to come in person to his quarters when he wanted him, instead he would be called to the Headmaster's office. His superior merely chuckled softly at the man's small joke.

"It would be hard for me to replace you before term started, so I hope you don't manage to blow yourself up. But, to get to the point, I have a favor to ask of you." Severus's curiosity and surprise was hidden behind his sneering façade. Albus Dumbledore never asked something of someone, he _commanded_. "I need you to pick up a student for me. Their relatives are claiming that they have never seen the child, while I brought him there myself and my spells claim he still resides in the house." The Potions Master detected the worry and confusion in his voice and was suddenly overcome by a sinking feeling in his gut. There was only one person, let alone a boy, that the Headmaster would take such a personal interest in.

"You want me to collect the Potter boy?" His curiosity and surprise had changed to anger, a much stronger emotion, that managed to override his carefully created façade and show on his face. How dare the Headmaster ask him to do this! The rivalry between Severus Snape and James Potter was legendary in Hogwarts, so why would Dumbledore ask him to pick up the spoiled, rotten, little bast…Severus cut his thoughts off when he realized what he was doing; sticking someone into a category before he even met them. That was the characteristic of Potter's that Severus hated the most.

He sighed and drew his anger back into his core. "Fine, I'll bring the boy here." He was forced to smother his anger again as he took sight of the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes and the smirk on his face.

"Good, good. Here is the address." He pulled a slip of parchment out of his sleeve and placed it on the table. With his smile set on his face, he turned and walked out, leaving a fuming Potions Master to calm himself.

'I won't be like Potter! If he is a brat, than I will treat him as such, but first I must meet the boy.' Once his was finally calm, Severus settled down in his chair and picked up the address. "Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey." The mention of a cupboard worried Severus, but he threw all thoughts out his mind as he picked up his other notes. He would worry about Potter in the morning.

* * *

He was having another dream, and to his great happiness, this one was relatively pleasant. He felt a new sensation, the closest word he could find would be warmth. But it was more…internal. His limbs were cold, and yet, he _felt_ warm. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or if he was surrounded by darkness; it was merely black. The darkness had never bothered him for he lived in the shadows of the world, nether seen nor heard, only there. Weight descended upon his limbs and something scaled and dry slithered up his shirt and along his spine. It was an odd feeling, but not altogether unpleasant. A heavy serpentine head ruffled hair as it positioned itself by his ear and settled on his shoulder.

"_Hello little boy, what are you doing in the Nightrealms?" _The voice was a dry as the scales that scraped his neck slightly as the snake spoke.

"_I don't know. I just wandered here."_His own voice was cracked and broken from long periods of nonuse. A rough cough accompanied his words, which mangled them even more. The snake moved around his neck and came to rest on its scales, back were it started. A low humming sound vibrated out of the body and his throat was soothed.

"_Such a voice, children shouldn't have. Such a look in those eyes, so alone, so very alone…"_ The voice trailed off as another spoke.

"_Come to me, Nagini." _This voice was low and smooth, it entered the mind and left without leaving a wrinkle. The snake curled around him tightened slightly and then moved slowly off of him. Once it was fully separated from him, he could feel it slither off towards the other voice.

"_Come and see me again, little boy. It gets boring when Master is awake." _The voice remained in his dreams for the rest of the night, and when he awoke, he felt a little less lonely.

It took him a long time to wake the next morning. He lay on the too small mattress for several hours, feeling oddly content. His body felt stiff and heavy as he slowly got up and stretched his muscles. Bones popped and muscles strained to shake off the last remnants of sleep. He twisted his arms, rising them far above his head as they twisted behind his back. Unfolding them, he moved into the wide expanse of the living room to continue, where he noticed that it was raining rather heavily outside. The sound of the water hitting the roof was echoed and magnified by the empty rooms above his head. It gave him a steady beat for which he could perform his dance, as he laughingly called it. He slid his legs apart slightly and rested his bent arms on his knees, stretching his back and legs at the same time. Without thought, he fell forward and caught himself from hitting the floor by his hands, swinging his legs up at the same time, easily keeping himself balanced as he stood on his hands. For a while he stayed on his palms, keeping his spine straight and his breathing even. He allowed himself to fall backwards this time, stretching his spine far more than he had before. He kept his mind filled with the sound of the rain and drove every other thought from his mind. Before he realized it, his dance was complete and he was standing upright in the middle of the living room again.

Shaking himself, he left the living room and headed to the bathroom to clean himself. After a quick shower and a change of Dudley's barrowed clothes, he made his way to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. The door to the room resisted his push and it took several minutes for him to force the door to open enough so he could enter. The source of this problem was a huge wave of heavy parchment letters that littered the whole room. The letters was everywhere; counters, appliances, and even plates that held food on the table. Instead of making himself something to eat, like he was planning before, he decided to satisfy his curiosity that had been a thorn in his side for far too long.

Picking up one of the heavy parchment letters that covered the room, he moved to the other door in the kitchen and stepped out into the foyer. His feet moved methodically, he was too focused on the violet wax seal that kept the envelope closed. He studied the seal even as he settled down on the edge of a small chair set in the room. The seal was very ancient and beautiful looking coat of arms; a lion, eagle, badger, and snake surrounding a large letter H. Latin words were beautifully, if not a little gaudy, on a billowing scroll underneath the shield of the crest. It was all very magnificent in his eyes. Slowly, as to not miss any details, he flipped the envelope over and scrutinized the address line.

'H. Potter' clicked into his mind for some reason, a he felt himself delving deep into his own subconscious. His body was overcome by a tingling feeling and his eyes closed as his head fell back to rest on the comfortable chair. He was falling for a short time before he felt his feet touch down lightly on the 'floor' of his mind. A large ripple moved out from where his shoes ht the floor and he looked down to watch them spread. Light filtered from somewhere and it split into the rainbow, deflecting and refracting many different times as it came into contact with the rippled liquid. The light allowed him to clearly see the books that surrounded him. Rows upon rows of books covered bookshelves that surrounded him and rose far up into the light. A thin jade book bound in silver thread to his left caught his eye. The book was the smallest he had ever seen and he didn't even recall reading such a book, which was odd because he could remember ever single book he had ever read. As he turned and walked towards the intriguing book, the ripples followed him, lending him light for which he could use to read. He carefully tipped the book upon its edge and pulled it out using the topmost row of silver thread as a grip.

Opening the first page, he was met with a blank page. He stared at it for several minutes, bemused, before slowly turning the page; where he saw another blank page. Flipping past five more blank pages, he finally came to the last page. This one, he was happy to see, held words. In incredibly small print and in papyrus font, was a single sentence in the center on the page. "I am Harry Potter." After reading this, he vision blurred and heard the soft murmurings of a female voice.

"I love you Harry," it was his birthmother. He had long locked away the sound of her voice, which was very calming to him. Even though the voice held the warmth he had dreamed off, it felt odd to receive it from her. She was nothing to him, the woman who birthed him and that was all. He couldn't feel anything for someone he had never met. To receive the warmth from her gave him chills that caused the light of his mind to dim and the refractions less luminescent. The longer the woman continued to murmur in her low voice, the darker his mind became. Once it had reached a color that he had never seen, the woman yelled out, "No, not Harry!" Colors blurred across his eyes before very suddenly became black as pitch.

"Avada Kadava," a silky voice called out. He was surprised to recognize that voice, it was the voice that drew the snake in his dreams. He felt his back hit the ground and a person walk up to stand over him. A hand cupped his face and smoothed the hair on his head. "I can see that you would be great, but I must remove any threat to my ideals. If it helps your passing, know this, I am truly sorry. Avada Kadava."

Blinding pain broke his concentration and he found himself staring at the floor of the foyer, stiff as a board. He didn't move, he didn't think he was able, but he felt a thick drop of liquid land on his head and roll down his face. He was immobile as the drop slowly dripped off of his nose and land on the carpeted floor. A few more drops landed on his head and made their way down his face before he was able to move his stiff muscles enough to look up. He was shocked enough to sit straight up at the sight of a tall, lanky, and dripping man that stood over him. He wasn't shocked because the man was there, but by the fact that the man was actually looking _at _him, not through, above or below. The man could see him! The man's face was taunt with worry and was saying something to him, but for some odd reason, he couldn't hear what he was saying. After several minutes, he realized what was wrong, he wasn't deaf, but a high pitched screaming was blocking him from hearing what the man was saying. Seconds after reaching this conclusion, he realized that he was the one screaming. His rough voice was the source of the horrible screaming the echoed in the small room and caused the man to worry. Before he could try to gain some kind of control over himself, the man pulled out a thin stick and pointed at him. The man spoke words that were drowned out by the horrible sounds he was making but a white mist enveloped him and he felt himself doze off. His screams were suddenly cut off and he fell into the Nightrealms, finally in peace.

_**

* * *

**Sorry this took forever….got grounded. Tell me what you think because I could use some inspiration. Please?_

DD


	3. Explained Existance

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, prided himself on many things; his position at the school, his standing in the wizarding community, and his brewing ability. But above all, he prided himself on his ability to keep calm in most situations that don't involve students; near them, havoc reigned. This pride fled as soon as he caught sight of the boy sitting in a chair visible from the open front window.

From the house's walkway, he could see the eleven-year-old sitting with his head down but screaming at the top of his lungs. The shrill sound was even louder than the rain Severus was currently standing in. Ignoring the pelting rain and chilling cold of the storm, Severus ran up the short walk and blew open the door. He ran into the foyer, but stopped and stood over the boy instead of trying to touch him, in certain situations, not touching the victim is best for their health. But drops of water alerted the boy to his presence and the boy jerked up to stare at him without breaking from his screams.

"Calm down, everything is fine!" Severus yelled, trying to get the boy to understand that he wasn't going to be hurt. Once he realized his words weren't helping, Severus pulled out his wand and cast a calming charm on the terrified boy, who promptly fainted. Even after Harry was quiet, his screams seemed to echo through the entire empty house. Severus shivered as a backlash of screams played through the house and tapered off into a low sound before stopping completely. The screams were worse than the Longbottoms' when Ballatrix held them. They were screams of long, drawn out torture, filled with mental and physical anguish. The thought of a child making those sounds caused Severus to shudder yet again.

Quickly picking the child up, Severus quickly apperated using a loophole in the wards to Hogwarts's infirmary. Leaving an unopened letter sitting innocently on the floor.

_**

* * *

**_

"What is your name little boy?" the snake asked from around his neck. Harry was back in the Nightrealms with the one from before. He liked it here, she saw, listened, and talked to him here. Harry felt that she actually cared. It was something new to him, and he wanted to stay here forever, but he couldn't.

"Harry Potter, I suppose." His voice was low and raspy from nonuse, but it no longer hurt him to speak. Taking with her had changed something in Harry, he had never wanted to talk before but now he even talked to himself outside the Nightrealms.

"Suppose? Do you not like the nam-" Nagini stopped and stilled for a second before sliding off. She took a striking position in front of Harry; her body still wrapped partly around him. He was confused until he felt the disturbance as well, someone had entered the Nightrealms. The feeling was one of water, gentle waves of energy rippled out from the person, but the waves grew in strength until Harry felt he was drowning. Nagini pulled Harry close, curling almost completely around him, to settle him.

"What have you got there, Nagini?" A man slowly appeared from the surrounding darkness. His energy overtook Harry, but it was soon pulled back into the man's body; he wanted to scare the boy, not kill his own familiar. Harry tried to make out some kind of face for him, but his whole body was covered with a deep green cloak and he had the hood up. The cloak barely made a sound as the man moved closer. "Well?" His voice was a rich baritone, one that commanded attention. People would follow a voice like that to Hell and back.

"A young hatchling that has lost his way." Nagini released Harry and instead slithered forward to wrap around the man. It looked oddly right to Harry, but left him feeling even more alone than before. "He has fallen from his path and cannot get back on."

The man walked forward and towered over Harry. "Have you lost your way?"

Suddenly, sorrow crashed into Harry. He had been locking the feeling of utter loneliness as far back as he could recall. Now, every fiber of his being was aching with the crushing reality. The Nightrealms were his imagination and these people, who finally saw him, weren't real. "I don't follow a path or create one; I merely exist." His words came out laced with pain and sorrow.

The man chuckled, "How's that working for you? Your empty existence?"

The mocking of the man was just too much for him. Harry let out a pained whine and curled in upon himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "It hurts. I'm nothing more than trash on the street that people ignore as they walk. This life is pointless." After he spoke the Nightrealms changed. Instead of the comforting darkness that had surrounded them, a dirty city street covered in litter appeared. People without faces walked along the sidewalk they were on, but moved past them without bothering to apologize as they pushed past the boy. When they can into contact with the man, they bowed remorsefully before walking away.

"Why can't they see you?"

"Because I don't exist." Harry's voice had become hollow and cold. "There is no meaning to this life; maybe I should just end it."

The man was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "There probably isn't any meaning to anyone's life, only what you do before you die. But perhaps I can find something interesting to do while you are alive. After all, fame or infamy, either is preferable to being forgotten when you have passed from this realm." The man turned and started to walk down the street, pushing and tripping people as he strode. When he noticed that that Harry wasn't following, he turned back and beckoned for him to come. Harry slowly uncurled and walked over to stand next to him. "Come with me. If you have nothing to live for then live for me, fight for me, and die for me. People will never ignore you again; you will force them to see you."

------------------------------------------

A good time later, by Harry's standards, he felt something shaking him vigorously. The Nightrealms rippled slightly as a voice he had never heard before urged him to wake. Ignoring its pleading, Harry continued to gain the memories from his master and store them within his mind. He sat back to back with the man while Nagini rested nearby, watching them lazily. The Nightrealms rippled again but this time, Harry could feel himself waking.

Growling in frustration at his inability to hold on, Harry drew deeper into his mind, looking for a way to stay. What he found amazed him. Directly before him the normal water-covered floor emptied out into a large basin-shaped lake of blue green water. Just before Harry could use the magic, he was hit by something that yanked his viciously from the Nightrealms.

"Are you awake now Harry?" a kind sounding woman asked from his left. Opening his eyes, Harry was blinded by bright lights that stung his eyes and left spots in his vision. The confused boy rolled of the soft bed he was laying on and scampered away on his hands and knees, unable to see where he was going. A wave of his master's memories slammed into his mind as he pulled a heavy door open and slipped into a large hall. Old memories of the hall superimposed over his sight as his master took control and forced him to move towards a dark corridor that seemed hidden in the hall. Harry felt darkness inclose him and his vison faded into nothing as the Dark Lord took full control.

A few minutes later, he cam into himself again to be face-to-face with a set of large gold eyes.


	4. Fearful Existance

_**Short Note: thoughts are in italics, but so are the parts with Parseltongue. Sorry for any confusion.**_

_**

* * *

**_…_Wake the ones and rise tonight…_

Ghostly voices echo through the empty field, coming together in a chorus of people singing at different pitches, but all in step with each other.

_...Fallen souls…we shine so bright…_

Giddiness and loyalty make my heart beat hard. The singsong chant came in low but grew as they moved closer.

…_Rise now and ever…forgotten memories…_

Nothing can defeat me. I will tear them all down. I will destroy all opposition. I will make him proud. I will make his dreams come true.

…_Rise now and ever…forgotten memories…_

My voice rises up from my throat as I enter into the stream of voices with the other loyalist surrounding around me.

…_No one can touch us!_

* * *

Harry stared at the crystalline, multifaceted gold eyes just inches from his own. Both pairs blinked lazily before moving even closer. They were very similar to Nagini's eyes, but held none of the warmth. These eyes were curious, frightening. Something warm and slightly bumpy brushed across his face, startling Harry upright. He felt smooth glass at his back that sapped heat from his small form. The eyes moved closer and Harry moved back a step. The cold glass pillar Harry had his back to wobbled ominously before toppling over completely. Large glass shards viciously tore at the overly baggy, threadbare pants the boy had on, stolen from the closet of the Dursleys' only child. The boy could feel hot blood running down his legs, but no pain. As soon as the high-pitched sound of breaking glass echoed out in the darker-than-pitch room, a low buzzing filled the space. The noise built and built, reverberating against the walls to clash against itself and build even more.

Blue light flowed softly, starting from the floor, but rising quickly to surround Harry. All around him, all he could see was a nimbus of blue light. Suddenly the glow turned harsh, blinding him just as the darkness had before. His vision swam, green eyes fading to red, then blue. Harry's mind was filled with the blue light, blank to all else, as his arm raised as if to grasp the light in his hand. However, before he could lift it, something grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him out of a now-open door. His feet hit solid stone, but he feel to his knees as the world upended itself. Harry's stomach churned, but there was nothing to throw up but bile, which he quickly swallowed.

Before him, a man in black was talking to him, but he couldn't hear as his ears were stilled filled with the buzzing. The scene felt oddly familiar. The man's hands rose to cup Harry's ears and then he said something Harry couldn't make out. His ears popped painfully, but the buzzing faded away.

"There, now you can hear." Green eyes met black and suddenly, Harry felt and heard things. Panic. _…Could have killed him…_Fear…._Glass all over him…Blood everywhere…_Anger. Surprise. The minuscule boy jerked his head away, his neck made a sickening crunch. The man snapped his hands to his chest, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he regained control of himself. Harry was elated that the voices had quieted and kept his head down to avoid it happening again.

"Well…," the man flicked his fingers and the blood Harry had forgotten about disappeared and his legs grew stiff as if bound. "That will hold for now, but you must come back to the Infirmary." A loud thump echoed throughout the room, stopping the man cold. The color drained from his face and he quickly ran to a door. Another loud thump echoed as the man opened the door just a tiny bit, bright blue light consumed the room until it was shut again.

_Stupid man, locking Nerval in._

_Stupid bugs, blinding Nerval._

Harry looked at the floor in surprise at the snake speaking to itself, quite literally. A two-headed pit viper was wrapped around the man's feet, shaking its -heads? - as if confused. "My apologies Nerval, I had no idea you were napping in there." It unwrapped its thick black scaled body, like that of a mamba, from its master and tried to move his way. The left head pulled in the other direction, the six inches of neck after the splitting stretched tight, but the right quickly won control.

_Stupid boy. _The right head lunged at the left, hitting its eye with its jaw.

_Scared boy_. It turned towards him, now only a foot away. The gold eyes bored into him as if he was an uninvited guest come for dinner. _What are you?_

_Harry Potter. _Both heads shook there heads in unison.

_What are you? _Harry didn't know what else he was; he had never been asked that before. Faintly, he could feel his master stirring deep in his mind, but he didn't ask for help. Something told him that it was his question to answer.

A hand on his shoulder startled Harry from his thoughts. "Come now, the whole castle is looking for you. Even Peeves." Before he could answer, before he could even really comprehend what was said or the reason for the soft voice, the smothering presence of his master seeped even deeper into him.

_Allow me. _Control was taken away from him then, but this time it calmed instead of panicked him. Harry let himself just float in the calm sea that was the peace he felt with him in his head. "Let the fools search." The voice coming from his throat was faint and scratchy, but held a simmering power just underneath the surface, waiting for use. "I have some things to discuss with you." The man just stared, obviously shocked. "Oh come now Severus, surely you, of all my most favored friends, had not assumed that I was gone, over, finite?"

"Wha-how?" Laughter echoed from the place in his mind that his master held in control. It was infections, leaving him giddy.

_Look well, never will you again see Severus Snape so perturbed… _"The main issue in my mind is, as it was 11 years ago, Harry Potter. I will make this very clear to you: you will protect this boy. He is very important to me. He leveled a heavy glair on the man before him, making him fidget. Harry laughed at the joy his master -_Tom_, he reminded himself- was feeling from the power he was wielding.

_I'm important?_

_Very much so._ "You look confused Severus."

The mocking tone snapped him out of whatever emotion held him, and the man's face quickly became blank. "I only wonder how you are in control of Harry Potter, my lord." Several emotions flashed inside Harry's mind. Curiosity. Awe. Fear.

"You should be warned Severus, this boy is a natural talent at Legilimency. He's already brushing past your frontal defenses as if they were not there." Surprise broke through the façade as easily as a child breaks a rule.

"I had not realized-"

"It wasn't that you hadn't realized; it's that you couldn't have realized it unless you were told. This boy is a treasure, able to slip through minds without alerting the other." The flow of emotion ceased as Harry was forcefully thrown out of Severus's mind and a large wall kept him out. But not for long.

"You can't keep him out Severus. He was never anchored as a child and his magic are directly tied to his thoughts." He laughed again. "This openness called me in, but it is his power that keeps me here. Harry doesn't want me to leave. Do you?" Harry was roughly shoved into taking control. Fear and panic gripped his heart, twisting and crushing into a weight that was unbearable. He didn't want to be left after just gaining an important person. Harry's magic dangled like fibers around Tom Riddle's presence, tying him even closer to his own mind, much to the dark lord's delight.

"I…don… …to be alone." his voice lacked strength after years of being mute, he had no one to talk to really, and then his master using it so much, but his point was made. Harry was again pulled away and smothered in the comforting darkness that was Tom's aura. It was suffocating, but in a I'll-protect-you-from-everything way. Like a hug, but from a murderous, psychopathic, powerful dark lord.

"The muggles couldn't see him Severus. He taught himself everything he knows. It surprises me that he even survived, let alone be this intelligent, this powerful at only eleven."

The potions master was more than shocked by the sheer giddiness in the evil incarnate's voice and actions. "Why are you acting like this?" Severus felt his heart stop as soon as the words where out of his mouth. One with any sense of self-preservation never questioned the leader of the dark forces, the one power every wizard in the surrounding countries feared, and the same one who made Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Conference of Wizards worry about the future. No, no one but a Gryffindor questioned the dark lord. Much to Severus's surprise-_Can I even be surprised anymore?_- a wide grin split the boy's thin face. He couldn't tell if he should breathe a sigh of relief or begin to plan out his funeral service in his head.

"I am excited Severus." That was unexpected. " I spent the last decade living off of lesser creatures, boiling with rage but unable to do anything. Then this boy waltzes into the deepest sanctuary of my thoughts, alone and craving any attention at all, and takes me into himself with open arms. This boy changes everything. All plans must be refashioned." All of a sudden, Harry's (Tom's) vision doubled, then blurred. His head become heavy to the point that he couldn't hold it up anymore. His body tilted forward unsteadily, but Severus held him steady.

"No matter how excited you are my lord, the boy must be healed before you go gallivanting around the school, plotting revenge and chilling spines." Severus Snape never thought he would ever be so…well rude to the Dark Lord Voldemort, his master and leader for more years than he cared to count. He understood the risks, but couldn't help but forget who he was speaking to whenever he looked at the boy. The too pale skin and shallow breathing made him seem even more sickly than Severus guessed he was. The tangled mass of midnight hair that looked like it was chopped haphazardly at one point, then left to grow out didn't help the image of a helpless child at all. Severus just couldn't pull up the fear he felt from the dark lord and connect it with this uncared for rag doll of a boy before him. It was impossible.

Said boy -or dark lord- glared heavily at him and for just a brief second, Severus did feel fear, but it was soon past. "I will forgive your words this time, but only because you appear to already hold influence in Harry's mind." Bright green eyes met his and Severus berated himself for his stupidity as a barely detectable magical probe slipped past his mental defenses and began analyzing his emotions. It infuriated Snape that a mere child with relatively no education could evade the fortifications he created after years of stressful study work. He gently, knowing he would be punished if he simply threw the boy out, nudged his mind at the probe and Harry slowly left without complaint.

"Well come on now." Severus was about to let go of the boy's shoulder when he was stopped by a small cold hand on his own. The icicle fingers stole what little warmth he had.

"I don't…" the soft whisper dwindled down to nothing, like a voice lost in the wind.

"The boy doesn't want to go back to the Infirmary for many reasons. I agree. The place is too open. I would much rather you take care of us here, where you can protect us." Severus stifled a sigh threatening to escape him. That would get him hexed, whether the boy could perform that kind of magic or not. Whenever Lord Voldemort was pissed, the worst possible thing that could be done to you was done. It was his own version of the muggle concept of Murphy's Law. And everyone hates Murphy, regardless of magical ability.

"Very well. Please rest on the couch while I go speak to Madam Pomfrey. She will undoubtedly keep me for some time so stay awake long enough to swallow something for me." Snape motioned at a couch in the center of the room that had gone unnoticed by the boy. "Can you make it over there?" Severus could see the shaking of his legs from the strain of only standing and decided that walking was out of the question. Without waiting for a response from the possessed boy, he slid his arm behind his legs and carefully lifted him up. Severus took it slow, careful of the blood slowly dripping from the body, but still made across the room relatively quickly. He set him down before the fire, the only heat source in the room.

"Thanks…" Harry hissed out. His eyes were easing closed when Severus handed one of the vials he kept with his at all times, one can never be to careful in his profession. It was a suppressant of sorts; created by himself for his own personal use to slow bleeding and induce a restful and healing sleep. Coupled with the child's exhaustion, Severus knew the boy would be asleep in no time. When he was like this, pitiful and weak, he found himself entertaining the notion of telling the headmaster everything, even if he had sold the dark lord his soul. He could stop another war before it even happened. Albus would have glory and fame beyond what he already does, and his Prince name would gain the fame it deserved and held many generations ago.

The image of a frail Harry Potter screaming his throat raw at the sky, unclipped and jagged nails tearing into the flesh of his face as he gripped it hard filled Severus's head. As the scream echoed through his head, the boy's thoughts slipped into his own, surrounding his consciousness. His mind instantly began fighting back with all of his power, but nothing could stop the smoldering mass from consuming him.

"Please don't take him from me." In his mind's eye, an image of the boy was gripping the front of his robes tightly. His forehead felt like ice through the think cloth and his messy hair draped around his body in a black waterfall. "Please," he begged in a creepily hollow whisper.

"I won't." Severus knew he wouldn't, the boy's power frightened him. It was corrosive, attaching to his soul and slowly burning his power away. The feeling was akin to the slow painful death of a Brazen Bull in the ancient times. He was no coward, but his life meant a lot to him, enough not to rat out the boy to Dumbledore. In the end, Severus would choose his life over what the Wizarding World called "The Light" and all the fame he might gain. No, deep in his mind he knew Albus wouldn't share any fame from avoiding a war, it wasn't in his nature.

"Good. I'm glad." The boy's lowered head jerked up and Severus gasped in horror. The skin and muscle of his face was rotten away, leaving only strips of flesh on his forehead and a full head of hair. Eyes the same shade and luminescence as a certain taboo curse that was very popular in the previous decades. They appeared to be just as deadly as well and held an evil glint as he skull-face stared up at him. "I didn't want to kill you." The black presence left him shaking like a leaf caught in a gale and sweating like a turkey on the third Wednesday of November. He stumbled out the door, his breath coming in painful gasps. It would sometimes catch in his throat, forcing a ragged cough to claw its way out his mouth.

This continued throughout his run from the dungeons and not even the late afternoon sunlight seeping into the Entrance Hall could banish the darkness around him. It felt as if he were suffocating, drowning in the raw power of the Dark Lord's newest devoted follower. Severus collapsed to the floor, unable to stand any longer. He soaked in the waning sunlight of the summer day. Slowly, the darkness felt him, but a new pain grew in its place. Gripping his arm in trepidation, he slowly lifted his sleeve to see the Dark Mark slithering to life after lying dormant for a decade.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Severus really wished he knew.

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The Potter boy had been missing three hours -three miserable hours of listening to Poppy complain of crazed children and idiotic staff- before Dumbledore finally thought he was abut to reach his limit. There was no real need to keep Poppy in the school. Sure, she had saved countless of his followers in the previous war and played an important part in keep the day-to-day functionality of the school in peak condition, but Healers were easily replaced. He could tell the staff that she had finally succumb to her age and retired. Or that she had an accident. Either way, Poppy Pomfrey was going to "disappear" if she didn't close her mouth right now.

Dumbledore smiled. He would give her a reason to use her tongue. Strap her down and cut open her back with a simple charm. Her ribs would give to his anger easily enough. He could pull them away from the spine, leaving her precious lungs free for his torture. Another simple charm would pull her organs back through and another would snap her ribs back into place. He would then sew her skin back the muggle way with a dull needle and old thread. Simple. Oh how he loved the Norse and their Bloody Eagle. The blood would cascade from her body not unlike that horrid fountain in the Ministry of Magic. God how he hated that thing. Equality was a joke. Why lower your status to be the same as every other creature that could string together a few words and call themselves important?

_Where was_ _I?_ Oh yes, the Bloody Eagle. Well, the old hag wouldn't resemble an eagle when he was done with her, but she would become beautiful. Poppy would be freed of her mortal ugliness and transcend the heavens to join the few that had caught his artistic interest. She will hate him during the process, they always hated him right in the middle of it, but the final result would be beautiful. An artistry of scarlet blood and fleshy parts that would make his old friend Jack (of the Ripper variety) weep tears of adoration. Yes, that was what he would do with the woman.

It was at this moment that a disheveled Severus Snape came into the Infirmary. Oh what Dumbledore wished he could do to that man. Potions Masters were rare to come by, so he couldn't actually harm a hair on his greasy head, but he could allow himself to be consumed with his imagination. While the man was arguing with the patron of the place, a smile crept onto the old man's face.

Yes, those types with the precision, memory, and sense of time to create potions without books at hand were a rare kind in deed. He would need a rare punishment then. _Hmm_. This boggled the man. _What to do._ Normal acts of art were too plain for this rare bird. No, he deserved something truly wonderful. _Perhaps strappado. _Seeing the man hang by his dislocated arms while weighted bundles were strapped to his feet would spark his artistic talent. Watching his arms slowly being ripped from their sockets would be a lovely sight indeed.

The two staff members were arguing about something now. Poppy was yelling, while Severus was calm, unusual for him when faced with the Healer's wrath. No, that method of art wouldn't work on Severus. The man was so tight lipped when he wanted to be. He would rather die than scream for Dumbledore and he wanted him broken, not dead. So, that lead him to physiological ways. The one thing Severus Snape enjoyed the most was his sleep. That man turned positively evil if his sleep pattern was interrupted, which lead to harsher punishments for students caught after hours. That was why Dumbledore gave him late night duty the most out of every staff member. He enjoyed listening the students complain of the thing the Master had them do during detentions. Hearing about three hours of harsh scolding or manual labor weren't the same as creating his own art, but it was funny to hear. Sleep was the key to Severus.

_I will use the Heretic's Fork._ He decided. A leather strap was tied to the victims…I mean model's...throat. Dumbledore would be sure to tie it tight enough to leave Severus gasping for air, like a fish cast onto the shore and left to rot. Then the prongs would be placed very close to his throat and chest. When he finally collapses from exhaustion, the sharp prongs would dig their way through his flesh. Sleep would become Severus's nightmare and number one enemy. Oh how he couldn't wait to see that look of pure anguish on the man's face when he realized that the one thing in the world he cherished most would turn on him and lead to his slow and agonizing death. He would scream for him then. Dumbledore was sure of it.

Severus, after finishing his "discussion" with the irate Madam Pomfrey, looked towards his employer. A sick smile twisted his face and his eyes twinkled merrily, as if they were imitating stars. Feeling uncomfortable with the look, he left the Ward immediately. Severus shivered, feeling as if he had just escaped death for the second time today. Merlin, what he would give for just a small chance to sleep. But no, he had restorative potions to brew. His new ward would need than very soon and for a very long time, he suspected. _Just a little nap would be heaven…_

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**A/N: First off, really sorry for the wait. I know its been too long. I just didn't have inspiration. I hope to update all my stories this month and since summer is getting closer, I will be updating more. Hope I didn't freak too many people out. I just thought it fit. That's my reason Dumbledore is always smiling! Looking back tough, I really think torture scenes are my forte. I tried not to go into too much detail, but I like writing scenes such as this. I hope everything makes sense, if your still confused about something after this chap, message me and ill try to fix it in the next chap if it won't be fixed at a later time.**


	5. Enraged Existance

Ok, so...it's been awhile. Sorry. Extra long chap to hopefully make people not hate me! Enjoy!

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It was right under his skin, burning his veins and clawing at his patience. It was fire; all consuming flames that choked and writhed and slithered around inside of him. It was a fever, a delirium, a storm, a frenzy; no words could adequately describe it. It choked his mind, shrouding all intelligence in a black humor while drowning almost all of his patience in a sickening sludge. His muscles were quivering at the contradictory need to attack the man before him and to keep his anger under control. It was almost too much for him. His teeth bit into his cheek to keep the vile things flitting through his mind from spewing past his lips while his clipped nails dug painfully into the wooden armrests of chair. The pain of both actions did nothing to dispel the red haze of pure rage that dimmed his vision.

Severus Snape was pissed enough to want to rip those glinting, gleaming, radiant, fucking sparkling blue eyes out of that wrinkled old head!

"Have you finally lost that last shred of intelligence that has been holding on to all of these years?" The eyes never changed in the face of Snape's fury. The feelings of pawns mean very little to the king perched so high in the sky. His defeat would become only sweeter in the coming years; aging and thickening with every passing day. The steps were already in motion and the conduit for it all lay several floors beneath them both. Severus would make sure nothing happened to him.

"I fail to understand the issues you are having with my decision. Hagrid is-"

"An oaf who can't tell a man-eating beast from a common house pet." _How could he explain it to him? _"The boy is afraid Albus. Even now, after three weeks, he refuses to leave the dungeons for any length of time and only then if he is accompanied by either myself or Nerval." It was Dumbledore's small chuckle that stopped him.

"And you say Hagrid is reckless with the creatures of the forest while you allow an eleven-year-old boy play with a eight foot long runespore?"

"It is **not **a runespore, and my point is that it would be a disaster to thrust such a fragile mind into a completely new world. That would cause an enormous amount of undue stress on him. It would be better to introduce him into the Wizarding culture slowly; allow him to shop for his school supplies in Hogsmeade or even better, have them owl-ordered." Dumbledore's smile faltered a bit and Snape could almost see the gears in his head turning as he processed the troubling information. Before long, the smile was back full force.

"I'm sure he will be fine." A hard edge strengthened his voice; like that of a commander and not an old friend. "And I have my reasons for choosing Hagrid for this. Harry already spends too much time with you, Severus. As you said, he hasn't been out of your presence since he arrived. He needs to be able to handle people before the year begins. There is no better way than to have him experience Diagon Alley at its best. Besides," Albus's tone changed to carefree, "I'm sure you would be happy to get some brewing done."

Severus kept the many colorful curses he was thinking tight under his mental defenses. He had gotten plenty of brewing done, just not the potions Madam Pomfrey needed for the year. The boy, his charge as ordered by the Him, had needed numerous potions; ones for growth, to heal his voice and strengthen his body, salves to take care of the numerous bumps and scrapes accumulated during his mad dash away from the Infirmary weeks ago. Not to mention the very complex packing needed to seal the large gashes created from the accident in Severus's private stores. The boys scars would appear faint, but never all together disappear. All in all, almost every hour of the day was spent brewing, mixing, crushing, or grinding the ingredients he needed to take care of his charge. Sometimes the boy even helped him, and was quickly becoming an expert with the small paring knife used in most of the preparations.

"I had thought that you would relish in the suffering of your most hated enemy's spawn." Severus's arms were shaking at the effort to stay silent and still while one hand played with the knife hidden from view by his long sleeves. He had the skill and speed to make sure the old man didn't suffer for too terribly long. It would take several, maybe agonizing, minutes for his lifeblood to spew from his neck before Dumbledore's body would grow cold, but there were far more…_harsh _ways for leaving the living world. It wouldn't even really take that much energy on either of their parts; a simple forward thrust into the neck, a slight twist to the left, and swing it out wide. Bumlbebutt would only have to lie there and die like the miserable ancient fool he was.

Consequences be damned, Snape really wanted to kill him. The blood would soak through the thin area rug on the floor, maybe even the wood underneath and stain it forever. It would be a lasting mark on Hogwarts that would never be forgotten. The knife was sharp enough, he knew, as it was his most favorite and most used. Years of preparing potions ingredients with a Master's eye and a thin pocketbook had forced Snape to become an expert in blade care. This particular knife was thin; it would slip easily the layers of dermis as if it were air; the internal jugular and common carotid would rupture with only the slightest bit of pressure, though if he went too deep, he risked chipping his favorite knife.

Severus sighed very loudly, pushing the thoughts, and the blade, back to their dark homes. "You will do whatever you wish, as always."

"Very well, have the boy at the Entrance Hall tomorrow after breakfast. Hagrid will take him from there." Snape nodded though his neck was stiff from tensing muscles to distract him from the urge to kill. He left before he could do any damage to either the Headmaster or his cover. In his haste, he never saw the calculating look sent his way or the malice that shone unveiled in Dumbledore's eyes.

On the way to his quarters, Severus had to stop several times to swallow his rage and calm his nerves. Blood from several sets of red crescent moons dripped slowly from his palms; ten gory smirks mocked his helplessness. They grinned up at him like the Headmaster, a condescending, all-knowing, infuriating twist of the lips that left everyone feeling small and insignificant. The fog descended onto his mind again, blood trickling like a spring from his fist. Punching the wall did nothing for his predicament but did seem to ease the fire choking the life out of him for just a moment, a pure flash of true nirvana unequal to anything else. The world was perfect, a clear place where he could control himself, it was a relief, until his split knuckles began to jeer at him. It was several minutes, and punches, later that Snape had the control to make it back to the dungeons without killing something.

Harry was asleep on the couch in front of the blazing fireplace as always. Even after Severus had made him a room attached to his main quarters, the boy had slept before the fire, on the couch Snape's snake wrapped around him. When it had become apparent that the action was permanent, he kept fluffy pillows and blankets on the seat and stopped moving the boy once he was asleep. Severus stood over Harry's sleeping form, he was finally looking healthy, not like the undernourished, scrawny little rat he was when he got here. Harry's terrible voice had gotten stronger after only one week but the habit of hiding food pilfered off his dinner plate had taken far longer to break. The boy was finally able to walk all over the school without being startled by every portrait and moving staircase, so long as himself or the snake was with him. The Dark Lord had been quiet for the most part, he had apparently worn himself out by taking control successively in a short period of time. Severus sometimes found Harry sleeping in the Astronomy Tower or some other small hideaway where the his lord had taken over and walked him there. The boy told him they just talked, but the scent of magic was heavy about the air during those times and Severus suspected that the Dark Lord was teaching him magic or at least showing Harry something.

A note written n tight, neat script lay on top of the twisted cocoon of covers that kept off the cold, a note to Severus ordering him to not wake Harry. He would awake on his own when ready. Below this, there were other orders, different potions to be brewed, some of the more influential people to be contacted, a list of the books the boy had read today while he was out, nothing extremely important except the last item. _Go to Gringotts and present the seal; all has been taken care of. _Under the flowing script was the impression of a coat of arms, a feathered serpent with wings splayed wrapped around a pair of swords, set in red wax. Severus sighed, he had just gotten to his dungeons and now had to leave yet again. But the seal seemed to look right through him, it held power that he couldn't imagine coming from just wax impression. This was an opportunity, however. He could withdraw gold for Harry's trip to Diagon Alley now, and foil Dumbledore's plot to know of a part of the boy's inheritance. The Headmaster had been more than livid when he realized he couldn't see even the vault set up for Harry's schooling; his angry eyes were burned into his memory, just as the marks of his subsequent punishment for laughing was burned into the flesh of his back. Decision made, Snape pocketed the note and donned his traveling cloak.

The trip was quick, floo-travel and a brisk walk. Not many people lingered in the Alley as it was getting late in the day for shopping; most were either leaving soon or jumping into the nearest tavern for a bite to eat and cold liquor to wash it down. The bank never closed, the goblins never seemed to tire when tinkling with treasures of any kind, but the place seemed eerily quiet. The marble no longer reflected the light, but cast long, menacing shadows across the ground. Candlelight flicked ominously from the deep window eves, looking as if they were the golden eyes of a demon judging a soul, did nothing to disperse the gloom about the place. The doors swung inward as usual, the two guards hidden by the shadows of the pillars, there and watching, but invisible to all others. The main banking room had taken on the darkness of the night; the tall roof was shrouded in shadow, looking more menacing than majestic, and the rest of the place felt superficial and all together fake. The tellers themselves even seemed more intimidating than in the daylight, a grim air hung about them even if there expressions were the same.

The goblin didn't say anything when Snape stepped up to the counter, didn't move a muscle besides lifting one knotted brow in what seemed to be disappointment. It didn't speak as the wizard brought out his master's orders and slid the paper under its nose, a widening of its slanted eyes seemed comical on the usually grim face, but he managed to keep the thought from distracting him from following orders. From the corner of his eye, Severus could see a hobbled thing shuffle into the bank cloaked in a dark material that hid every detail. The creature moved slowly, as if carrying a great weight that bowed its back; neither fact distracted from the fact that whoever or whatever it was, they were tall. He was brought back to himself by the still silent goblin waving over another who it handed a note.

"Follow me." It was a gruff voice, like gravel, but not angry; more in awe of something. They didn't go to the railcars, but down a winding staircase. Severus couldn't have taken more than thirty steps, couldn't be further down two stories, when it ended and opened out into a chamber lined on each side with dark heavy doors. The rooms were unnumbered, but decorated with highly intricate emblems that stood out in bright colors, different for each door. "These vaults are special; created by the powerful in the name of their kin. They are marked and protected by their personal family crest; created in a time when the design stood for your blood." The goblin stood by the door and shooed Snape in with a hasty jerking of his hands. "Everything that family was is put into these depictions; everything has meaning and purpose. They serve as both a warning and a signature, one that will endure even after time has forgotten them."

The largest door, facing the entrance, depicted the feathered serpent curled about twin swords in red, its jaws opened wide and threateningly, empty eyes searching for the enemy; two other swords were on either side of the wings while another hung over its head. The words _Sub Luctus Glorior_ lay under the sword points, also in red, but outlined thinly in silver. "I glory in lamentation…" his voice echoed back to him. He had gone to muggle primary school and had studied the coat of arms used in the long ago wars between conquerors of the times. Red for military might and nobility. Silver for sincerity. Black for consistency and grief. Justice and military honor seemed odd in combination to the other, darker, themes expressed, so the swords must have had some secret meaning to the family. The door had no knob, but as soon as he was close, the forgotten paper in his hand burst into black flames, he dropped it instantly, and the serpent moved; the jaws snapped shut, the wings closed, and the door swung open without noise.

In the center of the room, suspended in air, was a silver statue of the winged serpent with the twin swords, the top feathers piercing the ceiling while the tips of the blades dug into the floor. Both the ceiling and floor depicted a pentagram, the beast stood in the center of both. Light permeated the place, as if coming from the very walls, the shadowed corners were pierced by the reflection of the light off the crystalline wings. It was both a heavenly and devilish sight. The black walls were painted in scarlet words of all different languages in a scattered mess. The Latin and German, he could just barely make out as it was crowded by other verses in many different handwritings. _Lucifer Mortuus Diabolus Nec Deus Nec Arch Andelus. _Lucifer, the Devil of the Dead, neither god nor archangel. This was written around the outer circle of the pentagrams, never repeating but stretching around the whole circle until Severus was unsure of which part came first, Lucifer or Neither god nor angel. The phrase repeated over and over in his mind, coming together and never ending, it pounded at his ears and he could practically feel people around him chanting something he wasn't able to understand. Wasn't allowed to understand. The languages on the walls straightened out, all became one verse, recited by the hundreds of followers. "My name is Legion, and we come with many."

His own voice startled Severus out of whatever ancient spell held him dumb. Looking about the room again, he saw nothing but gibberish in foreign tongues. Something in the statue caught his eye, a flash of red near the head, right before a ring fell into his hand. It was an old family ring, scarlet like the words incased in white metal, the motif of the pentagram set in the middle of the stone, not on the surface, but as if it was floating inside the gem, barely visible unless you knew it was there. Looking at the serpent again, Severus noticed a void in one of the swords that obviously had held the ring before it was given - for what other word would suffice? - to him. The void in the other was much larger, but still smaller than his fist. Having enough of all of these odd things, Severus turned to leave and noticed a small change purse directly behind him; inside, was enough for Harry to get his supplies and something extra as well. The walk back up stairs was far more tiring than it should have been, but the fogs of exhaustion tugged at his mind; he couldn't even remember making it back to Hogwarts or his dungeons for that matter. All he knew was the hearth was warm enough to keep off the chill and that he was suddenly too comfortable to move even if he had the strength. He didn't wake as a book and parcel feel from the air to land directly in front of the huddled form of Snape; the tome's cover proclaiming PINNACLE in an ink that glowed in the firelight.

Harry awoke just as the grandfather clock in the corner tolled seven times. The world was blurry, covered in the mists of sleep, but he was able to make out the duel heads of Nerval looking at him as if he himself had grown another head. The heavy creature slid off onto the ground, going out to hunt in the early morning light since it had slept through the night for the first time in a long while. Severus was suddenly before him, silently handing him the thin spectacles he had specially made for Harry's eyes. The world became clear, as did the black bags under his caretaker's eyes. "Come along, breakfast and then a bath." He even sounded tired. Curiosity burned to slip into Severus's mind and find the information himself, but after their last conversation on the etiquette of the mental world, Harry had refused to cross into territory that he had no business being in. "Seeing as you slept straight through dinner, I expect you to eat everything given to you." He never could, and Severus knew it. So why did he insist on giving him so much? Sleep had chased away his appetite.

"Bath first. I'm not hungry…yet." The slight sagging of Severus's shoulders made him tack on the yet, it made him look even more haggard than whatever was bothering him was. His time in the full tub, Harry was surprised a person like the professor would have such a large bathroom, was quick despite him being thorough. Harry never took long doing anything, it seemed. Lessons on how to act around the different classes in the Wizarding Society were quickly digested, table manners were almost perfect without Snape's guidance and everything seemed second nature to him. That didn't mean that Harry didn't need teaching, but that he blossomed with it. He just saw-felt-how happy the man was when he showed him how quickly he could learn.

Harry faced the mirror, not used to seeing his usually long hair so near his face. Some friend of Severus, a noble looking woman with white hair and pale skin hidden by a dark cloak had cut it for him during the first week of his stay. He was embarrassed to think of it now the her visage terrified him for an unknown reason; maybe it was her mind which was filled with painful hate and fear. Being around her helped him stay within his own mental boundaries, her feelings were a poison that had ran throughout his body, seeping the strength from his body. But she was skillful with scissors and his wet hair. Harry's scarred forehead was covered in his sloping bangs that grew long as they tapered around his face to join the rest of his hair, which was cut until it lay just past his shoulders. Severus had called it girly, but the woman he said it was the proper cut for a growing lord and he was lucky she had taken so much off. Something was odd about her words…bitter, mocking, hurtful, piercing. The muscles in Harry's necked tightened uncontrollably. _Who was she to act like that to Severus?_

Something trickled though Harry's veins, energy that begged for use; he could see the pool of glowing water deep in his mind again. A stream of light flowed from its edge, twisting and turning all throughout his body until it consumed him. It filled his lungs like water, swallowing Harry completely, sending him to a hell where every breath burned and he was drowning. All feeling was lost, he was surrounded by water, light, and pressure. Everything was gone, consumed as well by the light. The bathroom disappeared, nothing was there but the pool and the stream of pure power. From the middle of the lake, a tall figure rose, the energy running down it in tiny minuscule rivulets, and as suddenly as the sensation had began, it was torn away from him, leaving a rough and angry wound all through Harry's body. No one part of him hurt, everything pulsed in a dull ache. His master's dark presence grew stronger and he knew that Tom had taken the energy from him, had woke from his sleep to save him from being killed by his own out-of-control magic. He pushed the woman from his thoughts, not willing to risk the danger of rage again. He tied his midnight hair back, leaving his wayward bangs to lay across his face as they wished.

Severus was sipping his coffee at the small table in the small room off the main that acted as their dining room when Harry joined him. Laid before his seat was a full Scottish breakfast; poached eggs, ham, Lorne sausage, both black and white pudding, fried tomatoes, baked beans, several oatcakes, toast, and a small bowl of cut fruit. The sheer amount of food was staggering, even though the portions were smaller than traditional. He gave a smirking Severus a helpless look, but the smirk only grew wider. Harry pushed the large plate away and instead transferred two eggs and some ham onto a smaller one that was nearby for this use. The fruit was pulled closer as well as the steaming cup of tea; by the smell he identified it as Black Ceylon, one he knew to be Severus's favorite morning tea. The drink was very relaxing, the slight tang of citrus being very pleasing to the nose and the rich flavor going well with his meal; not to mention how good the warmth felt to his aching muscles.

"Today you will be going to Diagon Alley," Harry choked on his tea, scorching the back of his throat, "accompanied by Hagrid."

"The one you call oaf?"

_Perhaps he listens more than I realize. _"Yes, I have called him that. He has never had the ability to differentiate between beat and pet." He leveled his gaze on him fully, even though Harry wouldn't do anything but follow whatever order he gave him. "Rubeus Hagrid is Dumbledore's man; anything you do or say will be reported straight back to the Headmaster. You must be extremely careful; there cannot be another outburst of magic like just a few minutes ago." Harry didn't ask how he knew, in his mind, Severus was very close to all-powerful and something of a mind reader, though he himself had the skill. He couldn't even comprehend going against anything his caretaker told him to do. They spent the rest of the meal discussing the trip, mostly a long list of things he was under no circumstances, was he allowed to do. Right before they were to leave, Severus stopped Harry.

"This is yours, never part with it." Dangling from a bright chain, a white ring hung right before his eyes, the scarlet jewel flickering as if alive. He slipped it over his head and was surprised at its weight against his chest; it could have been a trick of the light, but the gem seemed even darker now that it was lying so near his heart. "I cannot fathom what metal can appear so pure and yet have that wait and strength, but the chain is reinforced white gold, the purest on the market. It was the only one that the ring would accept. Keep it hidden until you can wear is proudly on your hand." Harry nodded, and slipped it into his clothing to rest against his skin, where it grew warm.

Harry turned to go again, but a hand on his head stopped him. "This was also to be given to you," in his hand was a scarlet cloth hair cuff with intricate silver metalwork, about a inch long and bound tight with red ties. It reminded him of the fae hair decorations from one of library's books; it matched the ring perfectly. Severus pulled the simple band from his hair and bound it in the cuff, binding it with the ties. "These are…special. They have importance that even I do not know."

_**

* * *

**_

It only took two stops for Harry to make his opinion of Diagon Alley; he hated it and the people in it. Well, dotted throughout the mass of mindless little ants scurrying to and fro, there must be some sensible people. But he probably wouldn't meet any of those, seeing as it was only the most annoying of creatures that kept walking up to him, insisting to crush his arm in a idiotic amount of handshakes. After the first ran up to him, blubbering something about being grateful for him, startling Harry into snatching back his hand and clutching his chest, Hagrid had given a bone-shaking pat on the back. The half giant had been watching him with those beetle eyes ever since and seemed to enjoy taking him to the most populated and busy sections of the Alley. The whole place was an eyesore, with bright, multicolored lights flashing in every shop window and stores arranged haphazardly in what seemed a random matrix of whatever they could stuff into every little crevice. It seemed like very single person in the whole place talking as if they had cotton stuffed into their ears, especially Hagrid. He was going on and on about a couple James and Lily, but they had nothing to do with him. They had left him alone, abandoned him to a world where he didn't exist. He disliked them for it, but not as much as he disliked Hagrid for shoving him into this world where everyone stared at him. It was unnerving to feel as if someone was watching you but to know that everyone was.

"Well, 'Arry, Ima leave you to get yer cloaks an such," the giant bellowed out while they were stopped in front of a large shop, the sign hanging above reading 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' in bright letters. "I got some Hogwart business to atten to, seein as ya had gold, we didn' get tha chance to go up to tha bank." He clambered off, maybe conveniently forgetting to tell him what to do. The panic of all the people that had been creeping up on him during the trip, starting from the moment in the pub where everyone swarmed about them, seemed exceptionally daunting without Hagrid's bulk to discourage the ants away. He slipped into the shop quickly, moving through the rows of fabric and mannequins until he came to what appeared to be a waiting area. Sitting elegantly in one of the two chairs before a large counter was a character that looked right out of the book of fae; white hair, stormy eyes, and the bone structure of the Noble Elves. He was clothed in the style of the rich in black and had a calculating look about his face has he turned his eyes on him, Harry met his look without care. No one was above him but Severus and Tom. That didn't mean he was rude.

A glint of blue caught his attention; a sapphire signet ring wrapped in a gray metal sat on his right hand; the family ring of the Noble House of Malfoy. He dipped his head courteously. "Good morn, Lord Malfoy." Lessons ran through his head. _Show respect to the Lords, the heads of the oldest and most powerful families. But not subservience, you are special, above them in my eyes. Never bow, only nod. _His lord stayed with this subject until he could spit the rules right back at him from memory. _They are not your Lords, but have power in their own right that cannot be ignored._

"And good day to you, boy." _The Lord Malfoy's first name is Lucius, he took over for his father Abraxus after it was evident that his mind was fading into dust. He is both the youngest and most powerful head of the family to date. Be wary of him, but not frightened. He serves me._ "Your robes are of fine quality; what is your surname?"

How much to tell him? _Severus has been in contact with my powerful players._ "I do not care much for the name of my blood, these were given to me by my guardian, Potions Master Severus Snape." Those storm gray eyes widened and then slit, a calculated look over came the face, that was soon gone as well to another of pure indifference.

"The line of Potters has always been a powerful one, despite some oddities produced every couple of generations." If he was trying to nettle Harry, he was failing. Nothing he could say would be enough for him to disobey and say or do something that he would regret in the future.

"I will hope that the 'oddness' has skipped my generation of Potters; but from the stories I have heard from Professor Snape and others, James Potter was as odd as they come." A small twist of Lucius's lips was the only change in his face and Harry took it as a pleasant omen. He had gained interest in the Malfoy's mind, a good thing to have.

"I have to agree." Harry held back a sigh of relief, that would only serve to set himself back. "My son Draco could learn something from you I think."

Again, he tilted his head. "Thank you for the praise. I would enjoy meeting Draco." Cold fingers pulled his face upwards to meet gray eyes. He hadn't heard Lucius rise and kneel before him, but it didn't shock him, many of the French families had taken to procreating with certain magical creatures in hoping to become magically stronger. It had obviously done its job. Lucius's head dipped low, and he bowed over his hand that was suddenly holding Harry's.

"I am overjoyed to see the Dark Lord brought back into this world. Never turn your eyes downward to my family, my lord. The Malfoy are your servants." The man whispered over his hand before standing up again. Tom was asleep, but he knew what he would do if he was there.

"Do not make such a public show of fealty. It is too out of the norm."

"Of course, forgive me, I forgot myself seeing your power again after so many years or fruitless searches and failed communications." Harry nodded and they continued to stand silently for a minute before Lucius spoke again. "Severus would not leave you alone in such a place, where is the one that brought you to the Alley?"

"The oaf left me," Harry couldn't help the tiny but of fear leak into his voice. Left him there all alone, lost and confused and surrounded by strangers that all wished to speak with him. It was chaos outside in the crowd. "He has all of my things as well, my books and supplies and I do not know when he is coming back."

"Have you chosen your wand yet?" Harry shook his head. "Very well, once you are done here, please allow Draco and I to escort you to Ollivanders. Afterward, I will show you the most interesting place on the Alley." He nodded his agreement, knowing being with his lord's follower would be safer than with Dumbledore's. Just at that moment, a squat, smiling witch dressed in mauve walked out from the fitting room in the back, a boy a bit taller than Harry trailing along behind her. The resemblance to Lucius was unmistakable, even a little creepy, as if the Malfoy Lord had merely cloned himself. After Lucius had finished his dealings with the woman, Harry walked up to the desk/counter and handed a folded note from the shop owner of Gladrags in Hogsmeade, it was where Severus had taken him for clothes that were his own.

"I need a full set of Hogwarts robes in these measurements; they are accurate, only three weeks old. Have them sent over to Severus Snape, Potions Master at the school." If Madam Malkins realize that this was no ordinary boy before her, she didn't say anything other than the price. After giving her the owed coin, he turned back to the Malfoys, who were having a hushed conversation. Once they were done, the younger close came forward, an uncertain look about his face. Harry was the first to speak, raising out his hand with a small smile on his face. "Pleased to meet you I am Harry Potter."

A chilly hand and equally cold eyes met his own. "The pleasure is entirely mine." The trio said nothing else, a comfortable silence between them, for Harry at least; Draco seemed to be almost quivering in either excitement or fear but unwilling to say or do anything that would displease his father. Instead of crowding around them as with Hagrid, people went out of their way to avoid Lucius's path; some going as far as crossing the street to be away from them. Others stopped them, important people that greeted the Malfoy Head in soft tones, usually a ring on each of their right hands. None looked at him, probably because without Hagrid practically yelling his name to the public and while standing next to the heir, he looked to be just another noble-born friend to Draco. This was fine with Harry, after a lifetime of invisibility, instant recognitions was both creepy and unwanted.

"Do you enjoy Quidditch?" He finally spoke, but the question almost made Harry laugh.

"I only know what Severus has said of the sport, it is obvious that he dislikes it with a great passion, and the few mentions of it in several history books in the Library." Draco's gob smacked look managed to wrestle the chuckles from his throat. "I'm sure you could fill me in on everything else." This dispelled the barrier between the two and a conversation over rules and notable events throughout the history of the sport followed. The one time that Harry looked away from his companion was to Lucius, who held a soft look in his eyes as he observed his son. This look included himself, but he had turned back to the discussion and missed Lucius checking up on him from the corner of his eye.

Ollivanders was even more decrepit and empty than usual when they entered. The whole place was hollow, as if something died underneath the floorboards and was now haunting the place. Lucius called for the keeper, but the blue eyes and skinny body never developed out of the gloom. The feeling of unease was palpable, a chill that caressed the skin and left goose flesh in its wake. Even the patriarch seemed ill at ease in the place. "Harry, come please." Lucius called from the counter, as the boys had remained near the doors as if the feeling became stronger as one was to enter further. He did come to him, Draco following behind. A long white box sat innocently on the counter, devoid of the dust that coated everything else. Inside was a wand set on soft cloth and a note written in spidery letters.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, supple. The only wand for Lord Potter." The wood felt warm in his hands, in fact, the sensation crept through his whole arm to flow through his body, similar to him losing control that morning but better for he knew that so long as he had this wand, Harry wouldn't be consumed again. A magnificent shower of sparks flew out of the tip and dispelled the melancholy of the shop like a warm breeze. Underneath the wand was a set of cuff-links, silver embossed on red and matching the cuff on his hair perfectly. They and the ring were obviously in a set together.

"And what if I am sorted into Slytherin? Am I still to wear the red?" Lucius chuckled next to him.

"Family crests and colors are far more important than House colors. These are not the emblems of Potter, but as a set, they represent power that every pure blood would recognize." His gaze was heavy on Harry. "No Slytherin would bother you on this matter."

"Red with silver goes so much better together than the Potter's gold anyway." Draco said, completely breaking the heavy feeling in the air. "Do you know these emblems Father?"

"No, but they seem familiar. Ah," he seemed to remember something suddenly, "It is still early for when we would meet, but I believe the she would make an exception for you Draco, seeing as she favors you." Draco's eyes lit up and he dragged him quickly from the store and down the street, talking excitedly about something, but Harry wasn't really listening, but thinking n the ring. It, the cuff in his hair, and the cuff-links in his pocket. They all had the same design, all created with the unknown metal that stumped even Severus. They were, as Lucius had said, a set that represented power, and he could feel it leaking from them. The ring against his skin was war and comforting, a weight that seemed to ground him no matter how fast the people around him went.

Draco continued his brisk pace until they got into a region Harry had not been. The buildings here were dirty and decaying; broken windows gazed hauntingly at the trespassers with a hungry snarl. "She always picks the weirdest places," he mumbled just loud enough for Harry to hear as they carefully made their way through the tangled fencing the surrounded the worst warehouse on the block. The bricks were dull and chipped, missing in several places, the sharp bristles of wild grasses tugged on their robes while low brambles and thorns threatened to tear into the slacks underneath. A wind whipped up the dust in small billows around their feet; this place was the epitome of the haunted house. The door was whole at least and proclaimed 'Ax's Animal Auction' in white letters that seemed even brighter surrounded by the dirt of the place around it.

"This place in unbelievable. You can buy almost any creature, magical or otherwise, for a price. If she doesn't have what you want, if you place an order and pay enough, Ax will get it for you." Draco seemed in awe of whoever this Ax was; his eyes were shining and he seemed ready to burst with enthusiasm. "She's an American," he spit out the word like it was a vile thing, "but she's is the expert on one-of-a-kind creatures." Lucius had finally caught up to them; he had an odd look about his face, nostalgia mixed with fear.

"Do not make the mistake of looking down upon people because of their nationality. Ax," he stumbled over her name, as if he was going to call her something else, "has a lot of underground influence. You could learn from her, nothing ever breaks through her mask." That strange emotion was back in his voice.

"You say I can learn from everyone." Lucius smirked at his son's sullen tone.

"You can, even the blood traitor Weasleys can teach you how not to act." He open the door without another word and ushered them inside. Once the doors were shut, darkness enveloped everything and there was no sign of the broken windows that dotted the outside wall. Something moved in the blackness, a spot became less black and more grayish. The space was barely seen, fuzzy on the edges; when Harry turned his eyes to the side, looking with his peripheral, it grew into a human-like shape. Magic swirled about the person, coiled about their skin like a snake. It definitely had the feel of the reptile, but stronger, something far more powerful.

There was a loud click and then a low buzz filled the air as darkened florescent lights flickered to life Long, tall shelving came into view; cages of every size and dimension stood about the place, some empty and others not. A tall woman, eye to eye with Lucius, stood with one hand still on the light switch. She was even more pale than the Malfoy family, a few strands of pure white hair fell around her graceful face while most of it was in a long plait that came around her neck and over her shoulder and yet still almost reached the ground. She was slender and movements fluid as she stepped up to the group; wearing muggle pants and smock as work clothes that looked pitiful on her. Ax looked like royalty forced to work in the fields. "You're early Lucius." Her voice was a calm alto that seemed to caress the Lord's name. _Definitely some creature blood running through her veins, _Harry decided. "The eagle owl has been antsy all morning. I guess he knew his master was returning for him." She looked at Draco and a large smile covered her face. "Hello little Draco. Happy to start school?"

"Y-yes madam." He blushed at her attention.

"That's good. Who's your friend?"

"Oh," Draco stood straighter and raised an arm, "This is Harry Potter. We met him in the Alley without an escort, so we brought him along." Ax stepped even closer, the serpent-feeling still wrapped about her. The hand that shook Harry's was neither cold nor warm, but what he did notice was that her mind felt odd. He couldn't sense anything from it, it wasn't blocked off like Severus's or hidden from view like Tom's, simply not there. When her eyes met his, they flashed pure black, then shifted back to ocean blue.

"Well, Mr. Potter, Lucius and I have some business to attend to. Draco, show him about." She left then, leading the other adult behind her into the darkness of several shelves. Draco tugged on his sleeve, and led him through cages, some with glowing eyes following their movement while others stared hauntingly empty at the boys. Several animals came up to them as they passed, large cats and other normal pets mostly, though one large lizard wouldn't let go of Draco's cloak until he had scratched its neck for five minutes straight. None of the animals seemed abused, a few were even spoiled, all had enough food, water and space, and were treated well enough to not attack the boys as they traveled down the rows.

The place they finally stopped at was clear of shelving, on a podium, a velvet cushion housed several large eggs, each a separate color. Draco immediately went over to it, but Harry looked at all of the different podiums, each about 5 feet apart. "This is where all of the eggs are kept. Since Ax is usually the only one here, there aren't any worries about leaving them like this." He picked up the largest, a black egg with spider web patterns crisscrossing over it. "These are dragon eggs!"

Every seat was taken up by clusters of eggs sitting together on the heated pad, except one. "What about this?" Harry lifted what looked like a gray chicken eggs from its lonely spot and held it up so Draco could see. A warmth, like his ring, pulsed from the egg. Its shell, upon closer inspection, reminded him of a storm cloud; different hues of slate and charcoal wrapped about each other as if fighting, mixing in some places to form new and unnamed shades, speckled with silver and platinum in others. The squall continued around the egg in different patterns crisscrossing like lines and then flowing like water in places. Harry turned it about many times, consumed in following the design. He only looked up at the sound of a large crack and Draco's cry of surprise. The powdery blue egg in his hand was shaking and splintering. Without a thought, Harry slipped the egg in his pocket, unwilling to let it go, and ran over to Draco, who held the egg as far away from his body as possible. With one final, violent shake, the top of the egg shattered and silvery eyes looked at the two boys.

The dragon egg had hatched.


End file.
